


Just a Little Wine

by Erviniae



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, My Slashy Valentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erviniae/pseuds/Erviniae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond finds comfort during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Little Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zinneth (Zoya_Zalan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya_Zalan/gifts).



> Beta: The Fabulous Chloe_Amethyst
> 
> Written for Zinneth
> 
> Rating up to = NC-17
> 
> Requested pairing = Thranduil/Elrond
> 
> Story elements = A violent storm, lots of Dorwinion Red, and an unexpected gift. Any rating is fine.
> 
> Do NOT include = Character death, MPREG, rape

Just a Little Wine

 Second Age: 3434

    Elrond strode briskly through the encampment. His hair and cloak wisped around him as a sudden strong gust of wind wrapped itself around the vast plateaus of Gorgoroth. Sudden storms were a common and tedious occurrence in this desolate, forsaken land. Cursing under his breath, he never faltered even as the downpour began. All around him, men, dwarves and elves shouted orders to secure their meager possessions. Horses whinnied, snorted and stamped their feet at the now impending and ominous threat of what was sure to become another nasty storm. It was as if the very world sensed the evil that lay in wait, and fought its own battle in the sky above Amon Amarth- Mount Doom.

    Pulling his cloak tighter around him, Elrond sensed the immediate drop in temperature. Even Vilya, worn by Gil-Galad, had little effect on this cursed place! Having delivered a message to Amdír, he was heading back to report to Gil-Galad; he was still almost a league from the safety of his own tent when the assault began with the fall of large hail. Cursing louder, Elrond tried to pull up the hood of his cloak, but the hailstorm was relentless. The ice soon filled the back of his hood making it impossible to retrieve. His feet began to slip from under him due to the sheer volume of the treacherous, icy rocks strewn all about the ground. Tents threatened to buckle from the heavy weight as well. Visibility grew impossible and he stumbled, falling to his knees. Next came an intense pain to his head, and then, nothing.

    “Why won’t that damned drumming stop”, Elrond groaned as he tried to sit up. Hands eased him back to lie down.

    “Easy now, you’ve had a nasty blow to your head. If you need to sit up, do so slowly,” said a smooth and confident male voice.

    Blinking repeatedly, Elrond heeded the advice and slowly sat with the help of the one before him, who moved Elrond’s legs over the side of the soft cot. Elrond realized that the drumming was inside his head. He felt his forehead and winced slightly at the pain and at the size of the bump he found. His eyes soon adjusted to the candlelight inside a spacious and comfortable tent, and he saw the source of that melodious voice: Thranduil, son of King Oropher of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil was wearing only gray leggings and a white shirt. His feet were bare and his silky, silver hair freely fell about his handsome face. Elrond found himself wondering if that hair was as soft as it looked. He shook his head at the thought. ‘Where did that come from?’ he asked himself.

    Elrond was no stranger to bedfellows. Living a long life meant many curiosities tested and often sated. Though, lately, with all the planning for this war against Sauron and the constant battles, sexual comfort was not at the forefront of his mind. In fact, he had to recall the last tryst he had and that was some hundred or so years ago. Still, looking into the blue eyes of the Woodland prince stirred something within him he hadn’t felt for some time.

    “What happened? Last thing I remember was the hail and stumbling to the ground,” said Elrond.

    “Yes, I heard a startled cry and looked out to see you take a nasty piece of ice to your head. My servant, Galion, and I dashed out and retrieved you to within the safety of my tent.” Thranduil walked across his tent as he spoke, picked up a goblet, and filled it with a red liquid. Elrond watched his hips sway gently and gulped at the sensuality that emanated from the elven prince. He had never had the chance to see the prince up close, nor even speak with him, because Oropher kept a tight rein over his son and heir. The Sindar were an eccentric race of elves-who kept to themselves for the most part.

    “This storm is relentless, I’m afraid,” crooned Thranduil. “You shall have to stay until it is over for your own safety.” He handed the goblet to Elrond who questioned its contents.

    “Miruvor?”

    “No, something _much_ better,” smirked the prince. “Dorwinion wine.” Elrond gingerly tasted it at first, and then raising an eyebrow in approval, eagerly drank the delicious and delicate wine.

    “Careful, friend” smiled Thranduil, “though it is tasty and deceptively light, it will quickly go to an elf’s head that is not used to this superior vintage.”

    “I need to have this in Imladris,” Elrond smiled in appreciation.

    “I’m sure something could be arranged…” replied Thranduil while sitting elegantly in the nearest chair and crossing his long legs. His left hand held onto his goblet easily while gently swirling its contents. He took a long sip and licked his lips afterward. Elrond watched every movement the prince made, fascinated by the elegant creature before him exuding confidence and sensual grace. Elrond shook his head of these burgeoning thoughts and gulped his second cup of Dorwinion down. Thranduil just smirked knowingly and waited.

    This time Elrond felt the prince’s eyes on him. Having drunk almost a flagon of wine, Elrond tried to stand only to feel the room begin to spin. He felt woozy and began to stumble. In two strides Thranduil was at his side to help him, and Elrond gathered his senses long enough to push the prince backwards down to the cot and lie on top of him. Thranduil began to laugh as he tried to push the deceptively heavy elf off of him, and Elrond joined in the laughter. As their laughter began to subside, Thranduil gulped under Elrond’s strong, solid, muscular weight. Their struggle had had another effect; both grew highly aroused.

    Breathing heavily, Elrond did what felt right and kissed the prince soundly. It was a messy kiss at first, all teeth and lips, but soon it deepened as he felt Thranduil submit beneath him. A quiet moan escaped the prince which sent shock waves of lust straight into Elrond’s groin. “Too much clothes, need to feel you,” purred Elrond as he pulled up slightly and nipped at the tip of Thranduil’s ear. The prince moaned louder and smirked, smacking the side of Elrond’s leg to get up. Elrond obliged and looked down the length of Thranduil’s body, watching as the prince pulled Elrond’s legging’s down to spring free an impressive cock. Thranduil then pulled his own leggings down to his upper thighs and ground up into Elrond’s groin. Elrond met him and they slid together as leaking fluids made for a delightful friction. Gasps and moans rent the air as the two pleasured each other in a warrior’s way of comfort. Thranduil’s slender and elegant fingers grabbed both of their throbbing cocks and helped ease their passions as Elrond watched him, transfixed. Faster and faster his hand moved until their impending release came crashing through them. With a loud moan, Elrond came, and Thranduil soon followed. Elrond fell to his side, his chest heaving in their shared exertions. Thranduil smiled and sighed heavily. They sweetly kissed before both fell asleep and slept soundly for the first time since they came to this forsaken and cursed land.

    The flap to the tent opened, letting bright light pour in as Galion stepped inside. Elrond groaned at the sensation but sat up gingerly. Thranduil was already up and washed and sat looking at the King’s herald. He glared at his servant for the intrusion and barked at him, “What do you want?” Galion looked the scene over. The scent of sex was strong in the air.

    “My prince, your father wants you immediately.” Galion bowed and quickly exited the tent.

    Elrond stood quietly. A sudden and overwhelming feeling to protect the prince overcame him. His eyes lost their focus while images of bodies strewn about, many elven, and a watery grave, flooded his mind. He knew he had just had one of his visions. Thranduil looked at Elrond’s face. “What is it?” Thranduil whispered.

    Elrond took Thranduil’s face in his hands. “Be careful, ever watchful.” Thranduil cocked his head to the side and nodded. Elrond then pressed his forehead to that of the Woodland Prince’s. “Thank you,” he spoke genuinely and then kissed Thranduil’s forehead and left.

    Later that week, word had spread that Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm, without Gil-Galad’s approval, engaged the enemy, and fell. Prince Thranduil, now king, took his meager remaining group of elves and left to return to his own realm. Elrond and he never saw each other again on Middle Earth.

    This war with Sauron was ended when Isildur cut off the finger of Sauron’s hand that held the One Ring. The Last Alliance of Elves and Men was ended and all went to their respective lands, believing Sauron defeated.

Third Age: 109

    “My Lord Elrond,” Lindir walked into the gardens where Elrond strolled with his new bride, Celebrían. “You have received a shipment from the Greenwood.” Lindir handed a letter to Elrond who took it while looking at Celebrían quizzically. Opening the letter he began to read the elegant script and a smile overtook his comely face.

    _Lord Elrond,_

_I once told you an arrangement could be made between us._

_I have gifted you with four barrels of the finest Dorwinion as a wedding present._

_As always, I am an elf of my word._

_Yours,_

_Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, Greenwood the Great._

 

    The End

 


End file.
